


The Boy With the Converse Sneakers

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Me trying to be aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: It all started the day Pete tied his shoes together to throw them onto the telephone wire, and the night Brendon climbed up the pole to get them down.
Relationships: Brendon Urie/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 5





	The Boy With the Converse Sneakers

**June 5th, 1953. Battlesborough, Vermont.**

Pete stormed out of his house after yet another fight with his dad. He was used to having them and he was used to storming out like that, but he was not used to having a bruise on his cheek from his dad's hand. No one in his family saw it coming before Mr. Wentz slapped his son. As he left the porch, Pete could hear his parents yelling at each other. The first place he went to clear his mind was the dugout of his favorite baseball field. He lay down on the bench and stared up at the stars through the broken ceiling, praying for things to change. He remembered how it used to be when he and his dad got along. They'd spend time together, build things in their garage, and play sports in their backyard. 

Then, of course, Pete dropped out of soccer and switched to music. He was more comfortable with a bass in his arms than a ball under his feet, and there are no complicated rules to music. Music is an entity of its own, free from laws. Pete's dad didn't see it that way. He thought Pete was giving up all his talent for something useless. He didn't support Pete's idea of starting a band either. 

"If only," Pete whispered as he blew hair from his eyes, "there was just one day where he and I got along. I want to be noticed if not loved." He didn't dare close his eyes. He didn't want to miss the next shooting star. The hours passed with the minutes without a single shooting star. Pete started to lose hope. If things were going to get better, there wouldn't be stars to wish on. "Alright," Pete mumbled, standing up and walking out of the dugout, "I guess not." 

He continued to watch the sky as he walked home. And at 5:14 AM, a glimmer of light shot across the sky. Pete gasped. This is his chance. "I wish..." he whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek, "I wish someone would notice me. That's all I ask." 

The air went still. The stars shone brighter than ever. The telephone wire called to Pete like an impulsive thought, one he couldn't ignore. Without thinking, he bent down to untie his black Converse sneakers. Then he knotted the laces together like nunchucks. Just as the sun began to illuminate the dark sky, Pete aimed his shoes at the telephone wire and threw them. The sneakers soared through the air, catching onto the wire. They dangled over the baseball field majestically. Pete smiled at his accomplishment and took a deep breath before shoelessly walking home. Dirt rubbed against his socks to make their mark. 

Pete opened the door to his house and braced himself. Thankfully, no one was in the kitchen waiting for him. He prayed for the same luck as he snuck upstairs to his bedroom. No one was there, either. _Why would they?_ Pete thought to himself, _I_ _t's not like anyone cares about me enough to wait._ He settled into his bedsheets and closed his eyes as a submission. He was resigning from thinking things would change. One wish on one dying star can't shift the world. Even worse, he doesn't have shoes anymore. He wasted everything for a chance to believe in magic.

* * *

Brendon was watching Pete from the bushes when the shoes got thrown. It confused him. Why would someone that pretty need to throw their shoes away? He'd seen Pete Wentz at school before. He knew the shoes were everything Pete had, so it doesn't make sense for him to cast them away. One Pete had fully gone away, he left the bushes and hurried to the wooden telephone pole. There were small metal footholds to step on leading up to the wires. Without a helmet or second thought, he grabbed onto the metal hooks and hoisted himself onto the pole. Brendon closed his eyes. He was afraid of heights. But if it's for someone he wants to be with, so it's all good. "I can do this," he whispered, "I'll get through it." He kept his eyes on the stars as he reached up for the next hook, and the next, and the next. Finally, he got to the top. The shoes were just feet away (no pun intended) but also within arm's reach. 

The ground seemed so far away. One slip and Brendon would be dead. "I have to do this," he insisted. His arm shook as he reached out and grabbed ahold of the first shoe. Carefully, he pulled it off. A wave of victory swept over him. "YES!" he cheered. Brendon draped the shoes around his neck like a scarf. Just like he came up, he climbed down slowly. Once he was on the ground, he took a few minutes to let his actions sink in. He had just climbed a telephone pole. His biggest fear. 

"Good god," he yawned, "It's almost six. I have to get the shoes back before... before Pete wakes up." He rubbed his eyes and headed lazily towards Pete's apartment. At the address, he shimmied up the drainpipe until he saw Pete's bedroom window. The window was open the slightest bit. Strategically, Brendon placed the shoes on the windowsill. "There you go," he whispered. "Keep them safe, now." He giggled softly. 

Brendon slid down the drainpipe and ran to his home address, feeling different. "Imagine the look on his face," he said with a smile, "when he sees his shoes in his room without any explanation." 


End file.
